


where the ocean meets the sky

by spilled_notes



Series: Horizons [1]
Category: Shetland (TV), The Bletchley Circle
Genre: F/F, Millie/Jean modern au (sort of), homophobic crime, past Rhona/Phyllis, past one sided Millie/Susan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: Millie’s boss thinks a change of scenery might be just what she needs to inspire her and keep her from resigning. Rhona is beyond glad to get a competent temporary replacement for her ill deputy. When the two colleagues meet for the first time in ten years there’s something bubbling between them. But when a series of crimes strikes too close for comfort will Jimmy, Tosh et al. be able to keep them safe? And will they both be able to let go of their relationship ghosts and find happiness together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that later in this fic there is violence specifically targeting gay women – we don’t actually witness any assaults, and there is no detailed or graphic description, but it happens. Take care if you need to.

‘Boss wants to see you.’

Millie barely suppresses a groan. ‘I’m only just through the door, Emma. Can it wait until I’ve got a coffee?’

‘I’m afraid it can’t.’

Millie blanches and slowly turns around to find John McKenzie standing in the door to his office, arms folded across his chest. She pastes on a smile and walks over to him, sits in the chair he points towards and tries not to fidget as he closes the door and sits opposite her.

‘I know you’re thinking about leaving us,’ he says without preamble.

‘I am,’ Millie says. There’s no point denying it.

‘I’m loathe to lose you, Millie, you’re a good Fiscal. So I have a proposition for you.’

‘Go on,’ Millie frowns.

‘Michael Kennedy’s supposed to be starting a three month secondment in the Shetland office, covering sick leave. Unfortunately yesterday his father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and Michael would prefer not to spend what could be his final months a flight away instead of a bus ride.’

‘Quite understandable,’ Millie says. ‘And you’re telling me this because?’

‘Because I’d like you to go in his place. Now I know Shetland isn’t exactly exciting and exotic, but it would give you a change of scene.’

‘And you think that’s what I need?’

‘I don’t have a clue what you need, Millie,’ he sighs. ‘But I need someone to go and you were second on my list. Plus I believe you know the Area Fiscal up there, Rhona Kelly?’

‘I do,’ Millie smiles. ‘We worked together here, before I left, always got on well.’

‘Even better. How does this sound, then: you hold off making any decisions until the three months is up, and if you still want to resign I won’t try and persuade you to stay.’

Millie considers this, thinks that while Shetland might not have been her first choice of location it is at least somewhere she’s never been. And she did always enjoy working with Rhona, has been desperate to recapture some of the magic they had in that team ever since she came back.

‘When do I start?’

‘Tomorrow,’ John replies, grinning at her shock. ‘Your flight leaves at 12.45 today, so best get a move on.’

*

‘Excuse me, I was told DI Perez would be waiting for me?’ Millie says to the young woman behind the enquiries desk at Sumburgh Airport.

She gestures towards a rather dour looking man with his hands shoved into his pockets, scanning the arriving travellers, and Millie smiles her thanks.

‘DI Perez?’ she asks, striding towards him with her hand outstretched.

‘Aye, and you are?’ he frowns.

‘Millie Harcourt. From the Fiscal’s office in Edinburgh?’ she adds when he continues to frown at her. ‘Here to cover your deputy while he’s signed off?’

‘I was expecting a Michael Kennedy,’ Perez says, finally shaking her hand and gesturing towards the exit.

‘Unfortunately Michael is unable to come due to family illness. My boss did say he was going to let you know about the change, but clearly he didn’t.’

‘No matter. I only hope he’s told Rhona, she’s no’ so keen on surprises at the moment.’

‘If he hasn’t it’ll be a nice surprise, I hope. We worked together in Edinburgh, some years ago,’ she explains at his questioning look as they get into his car.

‘Got on well, I hope,’ he mutters. ‘Where can I drop you?’

‘I thought I’d go into the office for a couple of hours actually, Inspector. Familiarise myself with things, meet everyone before I officially start tomorrow.’

‘The office it is. And it’s Jimmy, please. Rhona’s in court all afternoon but I’ll get Billy to show you around, introduce you to everyone.’

‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ Millie smiles.

He seems content to travel in silence so Millie looks out of the window and watches the landscape speed past. The horizon is ambiguous, the tops of the low hills shrouded in cloud. And then she gasps, because there’s a sudden flash of sunlight and she can see the sea, glinting and gleaming off the uneven coast. Just as suddenly the road edges closer to the water, and Millie can’t believe that only moments ago they were in the hills with no sign of this.

‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ Jimmy smiles.

Millie nods, craning to keep sight of the sea as the road curves away from it again and heads back into the heather hills, and sighs in disappointment when it finally vanishes.

‘Never more than three miles from the sea up here,’ Jimmy tells her. ‘You’ll have plenty of chances to look at it.’

Sure enough the road curves back towards and away from the coast several more times until they arrive in Lerwick and Jimmy parks outside the station.

‘This is us,’ he says, leading her up the front steps.

Millie spares a glance across the street before following him. The clouds are rolling in again and suddenly everything looks drab and dreich, and Millie feels rather out of place in her jewel bright colours and the Edinburgh office suit and heels she didn’t have chance to change out of between packing and dashing to the airport. She only feels more out of place when Jimmy ushers her into the main office and she’s standing in a room full of cops in sensible, Shetland-in-February appropriate clothing and footwear.

‘Everyone, this is Millie Harcourt,’ Jimmy says, not loudly but with enough authority that everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at him – and, by extension, at her. ‘She’ll be joining us and working with Rhona while Davey’s off. Billy, if you could give her the tour?’

‘Sure thing, boss.’

‘Now, she’s no’ officially starting until tomorrow, so everyone play nice and no heaping more work on the already teetering pile on Davey’s desk.’

‘Oh joy,’ Millie mutters.

‘This way, Miss Harcourt,’ Billy says, gesturing towards the corridor.

‘Millie, please,’ Mille smiles, following him out.

Billy points out the different rooms in the police station’s part of the building, then leads her towards the Fiscal offices. She has her own – a luxury she’s never had in Edinburgh – but the desk is almost entirely covered in piles of paperwork and files.

‘Oh my,’ Millie breathes. ‘I can see why John insisted I come up immediately.’

‘Davey’s no’ been well for a while,’ Billy says, his tone apologetic.

‘Not a problem – I do enjoy a challenge. But I don’t suppose there’s anywhere I could spread this lot out to get a proper look at what’s there?’ she asks hopefully.

‘You could use the conference table in Rhona’s office, seeing as she’s in court the rest of the day. It’s just next door.’

‘That would be fantastic, Billy,’ she smiles.

‘I’ll give you a hand shifting it all,’ he adds, taking the first stack before Millie can protest, carrying it out of Millie’s office and into Rhona’s. ‘Anything else you need, just give us a shout,’ he says once they’ve finished moving everything.

‘Thanks, Billy.’

Millie waits for him to leave Rhona’s sizeable office then turns to look at the conference table with a sigh.

‘Right then,’ she says to herself, and opens the first file to scan the contents.

*

It’s late by the time Rhona makes it back to the station, arms laden with the day’s paperwork.

‘No time to chat, Jimmy,’ she says as he tries to waylay her. ‘I’ve had a long afternoon, I just want to drop this off and then go home and open a bottle of wine.’

‘Yes, but it’s just–’ he calls after her.

‘I don’t want to hear it, Jimmy,’ Rhona says, an air of finality in her voice.

And then she stops dead with one foot over the threshold of her office, stands frozen as she takes in the paper-covered conference table that was clear when she left this morning, the unfamiliar coat hanging on the stand, the heels kicked off beside the pulled out chair, the mug with scarlet lipstick staining the rim.

The woman sitting at her own desk, Rhona’s phone to her ear as she scribbles on a notepad.

‘Thank you, that’s very helpful. Goodbye.’

‘Well you’re certainly not Michael Kennedy,’ Rhona says when Millie puts the phone down.

‘Rhona!’ Millie grins, looking up at her.

‘What are you doing here, Millie?’ Rhona frowns.

‘Apparently Michael’s father is ill and he doesn’t want to be so far away.’

‘And you were second on John’s list?’ Rhona guesses.

‘Got it in one. I can’t say I’m too surprised John failed to inform you, although I’d’ve thought your rather protective Inspector would have done once I arrived.’

‘Jimmy’s protective for a reason,’ Rhona says a little grimly, accepting Millie’s hug and brushing a kiss to her cheek.

She smells just like she always did – the same moisturiser, same shampoo, same perfume – and suddenly Rhona’s transported back to their office on Chambers Street, always a hive of activity and buzzing with the five of them working and talking. And then Millie moves away and Rhona blinks, and remembers exactly when and where she is, exactly how long ago that was.

‘Ten years.’

‘Mm,’ Millie agrees. ‘The Edinburgh office has changed almost beyond recognition. I came back last year to find you, Susan, Lucy and Alice all gone, scattered to the four winds. But now they’ve blown the two of us back together, at least.’

‘They have.’

‘I hope you’re not too disappointed to get me instead of Michael?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ Rhona smiles. ‘In fact this is a contender for the best thing to happen in the past year or so.’

It’s not a lie. Rhona knows how Millie works, knows how good she is – was, anyway – and considering the state of things she’s glad to have that certainty rather than an unknown quantity, however glowing his references might be.

‘Just how bad have things been?’ Millie frowns.

‘You’ve found Davey’s backlog, you tell me.’

‘It’s mostly follow ups, finishing off and filing, from what I’ve seen so far. Nothing too horrendous.’

‘No,’ Rhona agrees. ‘At least, not if you’re not trying to deal with it on top of an already full load of your own. I’ve been keeping up with as much of it as I can, but I’ve had a spate of court dates so it’s fallen by the wayside a bit,’ she apologises.

‘I’ll get stuck into it first thing tomorrow morning and see what magic I can work. At least try to get things under enough control that I can deal with it all in my office rather than yours.’

Rhona smiles, feels some of the tension lift from her shoulders. ‘I won’t deny it’s been a trying few months.’

‘Between us we’ll have everything ship-shape in no time,’ Millie smiles, her hand gentle on Rhona’s arm. ‘Just like we always used to.’

And looking into her face, into her warm, sparkling eyes, Rhona believes her.

*          *          *

By the middle of the next week Millie has found a flat on the outskirts of Lerwick, stocked her tiny freezer with ready meals, and bought herself a pair of wellies and a more substantial waterproof. On the work front, she’s got to know the tea and coffee preferences of every member of staff she’s met, familiarised herself with Davey’s slightly idiosyncratic filing and notation system, and made a good start clearing the mass of papers from the conference table. By agreement with Rhona she’s remained in the office on desk duty while Rhona deals with any new cases.

‘Just for your first week or so,’ Rhona had said.

‘No arguments here,’ Millie had replied with a smile. ‘I hardly want to add anything more to all this.’

‘Until a week Monday, then?’ Rhona suggested, and Millie had readily agreed.

And while it hasn’t exactly been thrilling, decoding Davey’s notes has proved to be a challenge all of its own and to her surprise Millie hasn’t been entirely bored, especially on the days when they’ve both been in the office. It isn’t quite like old times – three of that team are missing, after all – but Rhona is all that Millie remembered her being and already she’s glad she agreed to come here, thinks that if only she could stay in Shetland working with Rhona permanently there would be a chance she might not resign after all.

Thursday sees Millie on her own. Rhona’s spending the day driving from island to island, village to village, croft to croft, meeting with victims and families to update them on the progress of their respective investigations. Two hours into the morning the phone on her desk rings for the first time since she arrived, and Millie stares at it in shock for a moment before answering.

‘Millie Harcourt.’

‘Millie, it’s Jimmy. I need you to come over to Scalloway Harbour.’

‘Afraid I’m still on desk duty, Jimmy. I know you know that.’

‘Aye, but I’ve got a dead body due to an accident at work, which means I need a Fiscal.’

‘Have you tried Rhona?’

‘Got her voicemail. But I know she was away up to Yell first, won’t be able to get here for a couple of hours, at least.’

‘I don’t pick my car up until the weekend,’ Millie tries, stalling for time as she scrolls through the contacts on her mobile and calls Rhona.

‘You’ll need to instruct Cora to attend, get her to pick you up on her way.’

‘Cora?’ Millie asks, grimacing as she gets Rhona’s voicemail too.

‘McLean, at the hospital.’

‘Ah yes, the pathologist. Jimmy I can’t–’

‘Need Rhona’s permission to leave the office, do you?’ he asks, and Millie can feel him testing her, baiting her.

‘Not at all,’ Millie says. ‘I’d just prefer to tell her before breaking our agreement. Would you want to be on the wrong side of her?’

‘Oh believe me, I have been,’ Jimmy replies, a trace of humour in his voice. ‘Cora knows the way. I’ll see you soon.’

Without further ado he hangs up. Millie stares at the phone in her hand a moment longer and then sets it down, strides from the office in search of Billy and the phone number for Cora McLean.

Leaning against the wall outside as she waits for her, Millie takes the opportunity to both have a cigarette and leave a quick message on Rhona’s phone; at least she won’t be able to say Millie failed to inform her that she was attending a scene.

*

Millie is jittery for the rest of the day once she gets back to the office. She checks her phone far too often even though it isn’t on silent and doesn’t ring, looks up every time she hears a door open or footsteps along the corridor, gets on with her work – Davey’s, and now today’s Fatal Accident Inquiry too – but with half an ear and a corner of her brain always alert for any sign of Rhona. It’s not that she thinks Rhona will be angry, not really; she’d expect Millie to do her job above all else, after all. But she always was rather formidable even if Millie, unlike Susan, was never afraid of her, and from what Millie has seen since she arrived that certainly hasn’t changed.

But Rhona doesn’t call or text, doesn’t return to the office early. Doesn’t stride down the corridor heading straight for Millie until gone four-thirty, almost exactly when she’d told Millie to expect her back. And far from looking cross, she’s smiling.

‘So, your first taste of an investigation in Shetland,’ she says, ignoring both of the visitor’s chairs in the room and sitting on the edge of Millie’s desk instead. ‘I hope Jimmy hasn’t been too, well – _Jimmy_?’

‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ Millie replies.

‘Good girl,’ Rhona smiles. ‘If you need any help with it just let me know.’

‘You don’t want to take the lead?’ Millie frowns.

‘Why would I? It’s not like you can’t handle it. And there’s no point me having you here if I still run myself ragged taking every new case we have. I wasn’t planning on keeping you in the office forever, after all,’ she adds with a wink.

‘I know, I just thought – I don’t know.’

‘That I’d want to keep anything vaguely juicy for myself and leave you to deal with all the traffic offences?’ Rhona teases.

‘Something like that,’ Millie admits, blushing.

‘I know you’re good, Millie,’ Rhona says, serious now. ‘I’m lucky to have you, and I plan on taking full advantage of it.’

Millie looks at Rhona – really looks at her, sees the strain around her eyes and the tension in her frame and realises that while Rhona told her things have been difficult, she can’t have told her the full extent of things.

‘Fancy a drink later? We haven’t really had chance to catch up, not properly. And some tips on dealing with Jimmy and any other characters I’m likely to encounter would be much appreciated.’

‘Maybe tomorrow? I’ve had a long day with a lot of driving, I don’t think I’d make particularly good company.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Millie smiles. ‘But tomorrow’s fine.’

Rhona offers her a tired smile, and then yawns.

‘Why don’t you head off?’ Millie suggests. ‘It’s hardly early,’ she adds, before Rhona can protest. ‘And as you said, you’ve had a long day.’

She fixes Rhona with the sternest look she can manage, one she learned from Rhona herself, sees the moment her resolve wavers and feels a pang of concern at how little it takes to persuade her.

‘Alright,’ Rhona says quietly, dragging a hand through her hair and then pushing herself up off the desk.

‘Get some rest, won’t you?’

‘Yes boss,’ Rhona teases.

‘And I’ll hold you to that drink tomorrow,’ Millie calls down the corridor after her.

‘As long as you’re buying,’ Rhona replies over her shoulder.

‘Deal,’ Millie smiles.

She watches Rhona walk away, listens as she calls her goodbyes to Jimmy and the others, gazes through the door until long after Rhona is out of sight and then, with a sigh, returns to her work.

It’s been a little lonely today if she’s honest, even if she did get to spend a chilly while out at the harbour with Jimmy and his team. She’d been looking forward to Rhona being in the next room for the end of the afternoon; even if they have tended to work in silence in their respective offices Millie’s become accustomed to her being there, to hearing the shuffle of paper or the click of typing or half a phone conversation, or the muffled sound of her heels on the carpet as she paces while thinking, a habit Millie remembers well from Edinburgh.

Something else Millie remembers, although not until they’re in the bar the following evening, is Rhona’s penchant for spirits. The place Rhona’s chosen has a fine selection of whiskies, an even finer one of gins, and a menu of classy cocktails that are all far more alcohol than sugar, not a garish colour or paper umbrella in sight. Suddenly Millie rues that she only snatched a sandwich for lunch and hasn’t eaten anything since.

Her consternation must show on her face, because Rhona smiles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got to drive home so I won’t be drinking you under the table.’

‘Wouldn’t do for the Fiscal to be caught drink driving,’ Millie smiles, picking up her gin and tonic. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers,’ Rhona echoes, taking a healthy sip.

‘So, how’ve things been?’

‘Since we last saw each other? Well I got promoted up here, and I think after the best part of a decade some people have almost accepted me,’ Rhona says with a wry smile. ‘I love it, though, for all its remoteness. The sea and the sky and the light. The people.’

‘I don’t think I’ve seen it at its best so far,’ Millie says, because it’s been grey and murky most of the time since she arrived, barring a few breaks in the clouds. Not that she’s spent much time outside; it’s barely been light when she’s arrived at work in the mornings, and already dark by the time she leaves. ‘But it looked pretty spectacular on the drive from the airport, at least.’

‘It is. Took me a while to get used to it, though.’

‘It’s definitely a bit of a culture shock after Edinburgh,’ Millie agrees.

‘What about you?’ Rhona asks. ‘What did you get up to when you left? Did you see all the places you wanted, have all the adventures you’d hoped for?’

‘Most of them,’ Millie smiles. And she tells Rhona about India and Thailand, Japan and New Zealand, South Africa and Egypt and Turkey. Brazil and San Francisco, where she’d been sorely tempted to stay.

‘But it wasn’t quite all you thought it would be?’ Rhona guesses when she finally falls silent.

‘No,’ Millie agrees quietly. ‘But then I hadn’t planned to do it all alone.’

Millie closes her eyes and thinks of Susan, of the moment everything came crashing down and she realised she’d managed to so spectacularly misread the situation between them. She doesn’t open them until she feels Rhona’s hand on hers, warm and steady, looks up to find her face blurry from tears she hadn’t realised were gathering.

‘She did love you, you know,’ Rhona says softly.

‘I know. Just not in the same way as I loved her,’ Millie says, with a wry twist of her mouth.

Rhona doesn’t say anything, just squeezes her hand and then drains her glass. Millie follows suit; there’s more left than she thought, and the gin makes her head spin a little.

‘Another?’

‘Oh, why not?’ Rhona agrees. ‘Just the one, mind, else I’ll be sleeping on your sofa.’

When Rhona is on her way back from the bar, having insisted on getting the last round – whisky this time – however much Millie protested, Millie remembers a third thing. Rhona’s cheeks are lightly flushed from the gin and the warmth of the bar, and her eyes are sparkling as she meets Millie’s and smiles.

Millie remembers her first day at Chambers Street, remembers walking in and seeing Rhona across the office from her. Nothing so clichéd as their eyes meeting across a crowded room; Rhona was deep in conversation, didn’t look up, didn’t even notice Millie. Millie noticed her though, noticed the perfect cut of her suit and the figure it accentuated. She’s never forgotten that Rhona is beautiful – not in the years they spent working together, not since she left; it wasn’t a shock when she saw her again last week. But Millie spent so much of her time in Edinburgh smitten with Susan that she barely had eyes for anyone else, and this is almost like seeing Rhona afresh.

‘You alright?’ Rhona asks as she sets the glasses on the table and sits down again.

‘Hm? Oh yes, yes,’ Millie smiles, tearing her gaze from Rhona, picking up her fresh drink and taking a sip. ‘It really is good to see you again, Rhona. Good to work with you again.’

‘Likewise,’ Rhona replies.

Millie fancies that Rhona’s eyes linger on her over the rim of her glass, but it could just be an artefact of the dim lighting.

*

Millie spends the weekend thinking her sudden rush of attraction towards Rhona was probably just an effect of a long week and spirits on an empty stomach, just an effect of the gentle warm lighting in the bar and thinking about Susan. But come Monday morning she’s running late, dashes into work and leans around Rhona’s door to apologise, her hair ruffled and damp from the breeze and the smirr. Rhona is sat at her desk, pen in hand, looking better rested than Millie has seen her yet. The lighting in the office isn’t anything special and she certainly hasn’t had any alcohol, so Millie can’t blame either for the feeling that fills her when Rhona looks up and meets her eye and smiles.

Millie is saved from having to conjure conversation from her suddenly blank mind by the ringing of Rhona’s phone, withdraws to her own office when Rhona answers it and sits heavily in one of the visitor’s chairs, satchel still hanging from her shoulder.

It wasn’t just the spirits and the lamps and the bar. Rhona is still just as beautiful in the office, first thing on a Monday morning.

 _Ok, she’s beautiful,_ Millie thinks, snapping herself out of it, standing and shrugging off her coat.  _So are plenty of women. You’ve worked with beautiful women before, this isn’t anything new. Besides, you’re only here for three months – less, now. And even if you don’t go back to Edinburgh, you’re hardly going to stay in Shetland._

*          *          *

Millie has been in Shetland for just over a month, and at last Rhona is starting to feel like she’s no longer running to keep on top of everything. Not only that, she’s starting to enjoy going to work again, more than she has in months. The reduction in stress and her workload has a lot to do with it, of course, but Rhona’s not naïve enough to think that’s the only reason, doubts she'd feel like this if Michael Kennedy had come to Shetland.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Millie,’ she says one day as they eat lunch over the latest investigation reports they’ve been discussing in their weekly progress meeting.

Millie smiles at her, bright and sparkling, and Rhona finds herself suddenly so caught in her eyes and the vivid scarlet of her lips that she barely hears Millie’s response, the quiet, sincere statement that she’s glad too.

Rhona struggles to focus for the rest of the afternoon. Through the rest of their meeting she can’t keep from glancing at Millie over the top of her notes, and when she’s gone back to her own office it’s like she’s dragged Rhona’s thoughts after her and Rhona finds herself distracted, too distracted to work.

So distracted she fails to notice Jimmy standing in the doorway trying to get her attention until he raps loudly on the wall. Rhona feels herself flush at his curious, questioning, oddly knowing gaze.

‘I can come back later, if you’re in the middle of something,’ he offers.

‘No,’ Rhona says, a little too quickly, a little too sharply, and he frowns at her. ‘What do you need?’ she continues, before he has chance to say anything, to probe.

It works. She distracts him with talk of his current case, sends him off with a solution he’s at least mostly happy with. But Rhona knows Jimmy, knows it’s too much to hope that he’ll have forgotten her distraction, that it won’t linger at the back of his mind, that he won’t return to it over and over until he arrives at a conclusion. Jimmy Perez, Rhona learned a long time ago, worries at puzzles like loose threads, coaxing and pulling and sometimes downright yanking at them until they eventually give way, even if something is destroyed in the process. It makes him good at his job, but–

‘Rhona?’

She looks up to see Millie in the exact spot Jimmy had been in moments before, arms loosely folded as she leans against the doorframe.

‘Millie?’ she replies, trying not to smile.

‘I was thinking I ought to see a bit more of Shetland than Lerwick and wherever work takes me.’

‘Good idea.’

‘And I was wondering if maybe you had some free time over the weekend, to show me some of the sights?’

The pang Rhona feels at this – at the memory of days spent on the hills and beaches with Phyllis – quiets at Millie’s eager, hopeful expression. She fancies Millie can see it, the lingering pain, fancies her face softens, fancies she can see the spark of curiosity in her eyes.

‘I’d love to,’ Rhona replies.

‘Are you sure? You’ve probably got much better things to be doing.’

‘I’m sure,’ Rhona smiles, and Millie almost grins at her.

Rhona frets about where to take Millie, what to show her. Frets about it for the rest of the week and knows Jimmy knows, can feel his eyes on her more than usual, charting and cataloguing and conjecturing. She wants to tell him to stop but that would make something out of what, really, is nothing: it isn’t a date, they’re simply two friends and colleagues spending time together outside of work. But it still matters, Rhona still wants to choose somewhere Millie will like, somewhere that might stand up to some of the sights she’s seen on her travels. And, preferably, somewhere not steeped in memories of Phyllis.

In the end, when Millie sticks her head around Rhona’s office door on her way out on Friday evening and asks when and where she should meet her, Rhona decides that the walk she’d planned to take the dog on tomorrow will do just fine, gives Millie her address and tells her to turn up whenever she wants.

‘As long as it’s not early,’ she adds.

Millie raises her eyebrows. ‘It’s the weekend and I’m not on duty. On what planet do you think I’d be up early?’

Rhona laughs and feels the anxiety melt away with the reminder that it’s Millie, that whatever marvellous things she’s seen she’s still just Millie.

*

Millie’s hand has barely landed on Rhona’s gate when there’s a flurry of movement and a ball of fur flies down the path towards her in a clatter of claws and a racket of barks.

‘Storm!’

The dog quiets at Rhona’s voice, the same tone Millie’s heard her use once or twice on Jimmy when he’s about to step over the line, but still fusses around Millie as she slips through the gate.

‘Hello darling,’ Millie says, offering her hand and receiving an enthusiastic lick in response, then ruffling the dog’s ears.

‘Sorry, she’s getting a bit keen for her walk.’

Millie looks up to see Rhona standing in the open door. No suit today of course; she’s in a soft, draping jumper over the most gorgeous tight jeans that Millie can’t wrench her gaze from until Storm’s cold nose nudges her hand again.

‘My fault,’ Millie smiles apologetically, fussing over the dog to keep herself from staring at Rhona’s legs. ‘I overslept and then missed the ferry. As it’s such a short journey you’d think there’d be more than one an hour.’

‘A lesson you learn quickly when you live here, believe me,’ Rhona says dryly. ‘You ready to go?’

‘Whenever you are,’ Millie nods.

‘I’ll just grab my coat and someone’s lead, then.’

At the word ‘lead’ Storm’s ears prick up; she wheels from Millie and dashes towards Rhona, barking eagerly.

Millie hears Rhona talking to the dog, her tone equally fond and exasperated, turns around and looks out at the view Rhona wakes up to every morning, comes home to every evening.

‘Not bad, is it?’ Rhona says softly, walking up beside her with Storm safely on her lead but practically vibrating with excitement at Rhona’s heels.

‘I can see why you love it here,’ Millie agrees. ‘It’s quite a view to have from your front door.’

‘Even better ones where we’re heading. Come on, before madam here explodes.’

There’s no one else on the little curved stretch of beach on the edge of the voe they end up at, no one else in sight at all. Rhona lets Storm off her lead and she immediately pelts down towards the water, spraying them both with sand as she goes. They stroll a little way, side by side, until they reach an outcrop of rocks, sit together and watch Storm trotting along the tideline nosing at sticks and seaweed.

‘Never had a dead body wash up on this beach,’ Rhona says wryly, taking a hip flask from her coat pocket and passing it to Millie. ‘Not in the time I’ve been here, anyway.’

‘Get a lot of corpses on beaches, do you?’ Millie asks, unscrewing the cap and sniffing cautiously.

‘Damson gin, homemade,’ Rhona says in answer to her silent question. ‘And yes, a fair few. We do have a lot of coast, after all, and a lot of boats. People are always out on the water, for work or pleasure, and some of them end up in it, for whatever reason.’

‘But not here,’ Millie says, taking a sip and then another before passing the flask back. ‘God, that’s good.’

‘Not yet,’ Rhona replies. ‘Remind me to send you home with a bottle.’

‘You’re a terrible influence,’ Millie teases.

Rhona’s laugh is stolen away by the wind that suddenly springs up, whipping their hair around their faces and making the water dance. It blows the clouds in too, seemingly conjuring them up from nowhere, and a moment later the heavens open.

‘Come on,’ Millie says, jumping up and pulling her coat tighter around herself. She takes half a dozen steps towards the footpath, but when she turns back Rhona’s still sat down. ‘Rhona!’

‘Nowhere to go, Millie,’ Rhona calls with a wry smile, looking at the tumbling, scudding clouds across the voe. ‘We’re going to end up soaked, may as well take in all the drama of it.’

Millie sighs dramatically but returns to sit beside her, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. ‘If I catch cold,’ she mutters darkly.

‘Not allowed,’ Rhona teases. ‘Can’t have my replacement deputy off ill too.’

‘You’ll only have yourself to blame,’ Millie grumbles.

But the play of light and shade across the sky and the water and the hills, all shades of iron grey and blue, soon has her mesmerised and she forgets that she’s cold, forgets the rain splattering her face and dripping down her collar from the ends of her hair.

Almost as quickly as they arrive the clouds dispel, blown over Bressay and taking their rain with them, leaving behind so much light sparkling off the water that Millie has to squint.

‘Is it always this changeable?’

‘Capricious is the word I’d use,’ Rhona smiles. ‘And yes, it’s far worse than Edinburgh. Come on, shall we start heading back?’

By the time they reach Rhona’s front door Millie’s hair is dry, though she dreads to think how frizzy it must be. The sun and the exertion have warmed her enough that she’s unzipped her coat, but some of the chill from the rain still lingers in her.

‘Come in and warm up?’ Rhona suggests.

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose,’ Millie protests. ‘I’ve already taken up enough of your weekend.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Rhona smiles. ‘You’re always welcome, and definitely not an imposition. Besides,’ she adds, checking her watch, ‘you’ll never make the next ferry, may as well wait in the warm with a cup of tea than at the terminal.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

A cup of tea turns into two, turns into Rhona suggesting dinner when Millie’s stomach rumbles, turns into Millie fiddling with Rhona’s radio until she finds something she can dance to as they move smoothly around each other in Rhona’s sizeable kitchen. Millie isn’t much help when it comes to actually cooking but she willingly follows Rhona’s directions, chopping and stirring without complaint.

‘Rhona, this is delicious,’ she announces when they sit down to eat and she takes her first mouthful of pasta.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Rhona smiles.

She hesitates for the briefest moment, her fork hovering before she pops it into her mouth. Millie’s certain she was about to say something else, wonders what it was and why she thought better of it. Wonders whether or not to ask, but decides against it. She knows there’s still something Rhona hasn’t been telling her, some lingering hurt. And it’s followed her home, so Millie suspects it isn’t merely a case or office politics; she thinks perhaps Rhona has had her heart broken and is still nursing the pieces back together again, wonders who it was and what they did to her.

 _Jimmy would know,_ Millie thinks, spearing another forkful of pasta. Because while she still isn’t quite sure exactly what sort of relationship Rhona has with her DI it’s clear that they’re close – that they’re all close here – and that Jimmy cares deeply for Rhona. _Which means he wouldn’t tell you, wouldn’t gossip behind her back._

Eventually, when the light has drained from the sky and Storm is curled up asleep on the rug, Millie decides that however comfortable she is, however much she wants to stay, she really ought to head back. She hugs Rhona tightly as she says goodbye, presses a kiss to her cheek and rubs her arm and tries to telegraph how much she cares about her, how deeply she cares. When she draws back, hand lingering on Rhona’s elbow, their eyes meet for a long, drawn out moment, and the weight of attraction she felt in the bar hits Millie with all the force of the Bressay breeze, blowing her thoughts into a whirl until it takes every ounce of willpower not to brush her lips to Rhona’s, to simply squeeze her elbow and walk to her car.

At the end of the drive she pauses, sees Rhona still standing in the doorway, a silhouette against the rectangle of light. She imagines the soft warmth of her eyes and feels a sharp tug at her heart, a pang at the thought of going back to an empty flat that doesn’t feel like home when she could spend the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa with Rhona, even if she would have to fight this wave of desire. It’s almost enough to make her reverse all the way back, but she doesn’t.

The drive and the ferry are both quick. Millie spends the ten minutes they’re on the water leaning on the railing, her fingers growing icy but her mind filling with images of the day until she’s itching to be back. The drive on the other side, once they dock at Lerwick, is quick too. As soon as she’s through the door Millie toes off her shoes and shrugs off her coat, switches on the light and bathes the room in brightness.

She stays up all the rest of the night, goes to bed still fully dressed when the horizon is just starting to grow pale with the first hints of dawn. There are smudges of colour on her fingers, a smear of charcoal on her cheek that gradually transfers to her pillow when she rolls over in her sleep. And spread across the table a series of sketches, pencil and charcoal and watercolour, snippets of ideas, scribbled shapes and splashes of colour, storm clouds and standing stones and shimmering water. And here and there the outline of a figure, the shape of an eye, the profile of a face with wind-blown hair streaked across it.

When she eventually wakes Millie ventures out, finds first coffee and then an art supply shop, thinks longingly of the collection gathering dust in her Edinburgh flat as she chooses canvases and brushes and paints. As soon as she gets back she begins, filled with fire, looks at her sketches and into her memory and tries not to think of Rhona as she sweeps the first colour onto the white expanse.

*

‘Would you like to come out again next weekend?’ Rhona asks on Monday morning, while they’re standing in the little kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘If Storm doesn’t mind me gatecrashing her walk.’

‘She took a shine to you, so I think she’ll be delighted.’

‘Then I’d love to,’ Millie smiles. ‘Just let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.’

Rhona picks her up from outside her flat on Sunday morning, drives south towards the tip of Mainland, west towards a little inlet. Millie’s prepared for the weather this time but the beach takes her breath away: almost white sand and clear turquoise water, and no one else to have to share it with.

Storm instantly pelts down towards the water, splashing through the foam, Rhona following far more sedately. Millie hangs back a little, absorbing the beach into her mind’s eye, pulls her phone from her pocket and takes a few photos; they don’t quite capture the colours but it’ll be enough to jog her memory later. She can’t resist taking one of Rhona standing at the tideline looking out to sea, her hair a wild dark halo around her head.

Millie stays up late into the night again when Rhona finally drops her home, sketching and painting, hand moving fast to try and capture what she remembers, what she sees in her mind, the snapshots she took. She returns to the photo of Rhona over and over, finger hovering over the screen, but it doesn’t make it onto paper. Instead she swirls colour onto a fresh canvas, impressions of the dynamic Shetland sea and sky that have flooded her soul and reawakened this part of her, this fire she’s been missing for so long.


	2. Chapter 2

A fortnight passes, and Millie’s presence one day of the weekend has become usual, familiar, routine. Even after the best part of a decade Rhona doesn’t take Shetland for granted, but still she sees it anew through Millie’s eyes. Watching Millie see these places, seeing her light up, takes Rhona’s breath away – even more than they did the first time she saw them herself. She’s safe to watch her fill as Millie gazes endlessly at the rocks, the sea, the sky; safe to relish being close to her when Millie slips her arm through Rhona’s and presses against her as they walk, when Millie hugs her goodbye.

It’s dangerous too, though, because that’s not a luxury she has at work. At work Rhona has to keep herself from gazing at Millie too much, tries not to remember how it felt to be held by her, not to remember that still, breathless moment on her doorstep when she thought Millie was going to kiss her. Tries to behave normally, but from the glances Jimmy keeps throwing at her isn’t sure she’s being entirely successful. But Millie seems not to have noticed, seems in fact to be slightly distracted, slightly lost in her own head.

 _A good thing,_ Rhona thinks wryly as she catches herself gazing at Millie yet again, leaning against the counter, staring unseeing at the opposite wall as she waits for the kettle to boil.

She looks away just as Jimmy steps into the room, not quite quick enough for him not to notice, ducks her head but feels him scrutinise her nonetheless. Rhona remembers this from when she was first falling for Phyllis, remembers the curious light in Jimmy’s eyes each time she came into work after a weekend in Glasgow, each time she came out of her office after a lunchtime phone call with her. Remembers calling her for work with Jimmy sat opposite and desperately trying to keep her emotions from her voice, her eyes, her face as he watched and listened, and she saw the cogs turning. Remembers avoiding calling Phyllis in his presence again because she knew that she’d failed, knew that he suspected and that next time he’d be looking and listening far more carefully, knew that she wasn’t quite ready to share Phyllis just yet, not while it was all so new.

She can’t avoid spending time with both him and Millie. It’s inevitable that he’s going to work out what she’s feeling, if he hasn’t already.

Jimmy’s presence seems to shake Millie from whatever reverie she’s lost in. She turns to take another mug from the cupboard, on the way catches Rhona’s eye and smiles; Rhona can’t help but smile in return, wonders if the lightness suddenly filling her shows on her face. Knows Jimmy’s eyes will be flicking between the two of them as he worries at the threads tying them.

*

Rhona and Storm are halfway to Sandwick on Sunday morning when her phone rings.

‘I’m not on call this weekend, Jimmy,’ she says by way of greeting. ‘Try Millie.’

_Millie, who she spent all of yesterday with: a long walk, a late pub lunch that spread to fill the whole afternoon, a lingering kiss to her cheek when they said goodbye._

‘Millie’s already here,’ Jimmy replies, and there’s a grave note to his voice that fills her with worry.

‘Is she alright?’ she asks before she can help herself, and is glad she can’t see Jimmy’s expression through the phone.

‘She’s fine, Rhona,’ he soothes. ‘Shaken, but fine. Her neighbour was attacked this morning, Millie probably saved her life.’

‘Attempted murder?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘I was just on my way to Sandwick with the dog. I can be with you in quarter of an hour.’

‘Thanks, Rhona.’

The road is quiet at this time on a Sunday. Rhona turns the car around, forces herself not to speed all the way to the station. When she arrives, the short journey seeming to stretch for miles, Millie is standing outside in her pyjamas and a silk dressing gown with a coat thrown over the top, smoking. Storm dashes over to her immediately, Rhona barely a stride behind.

‘Are you alright?’ she asks, her eyes scanning Millie. There’s still blood on her pyjamas, in the beds of her nails.

‘I’m fine,’ Millie replies, though her voice is a little unsteady and her fingers are trembling as they stroke through Storm’s fur. ‘None of it’s mine. And it’s not like I’ve never seen a stabbing victim before.’

‘No, but they’re not usually still alive and bleeding when we see them. Or someone we know.’

‘I hardly _know_ her,’ Millie protests.

‘You know what I mean,’ Rhona says, worry making her a little sharp.

Storm has lost interest now, has left them to wander along the front of the building sniffing the walls. Millie’s unoccupied hand hangs loosely by her side and Rhona reaches for it, feels how cold her fingers are and squeezes gently. Finally Millie looks at her and offers a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Behind her the front door opens and Storm barks a greeting, trots over to Jimmy and noses at his hand.

‘Alright, trouble?’ Jimmy says, fondling her ears. ‘Good, you’re here. Rhona?’

Rhona looks at him but doesn’t let go of Millie’s hand, doesn’t loosen her grip even when Jimmy’s gaze drops and then fixes on hers.

‘Go on,’ Millie says quietly. ‘I’ll be in once I’ve finished this.’

Rhona nods, squeezes her hand again before following Jimmy inside, Storm at her heels.

Later, once her work is done for now, once Jimmy and Tosh have taken Millie’s statement, once the hospital has phoned to say that Laura is out of surgery and going to be fine, once they’ve eaten the sandwiches Cassie brought to the station, once neither of them can do any more and Rhona knows she’s just frustrating Jimmy by hovering, Rhona takes Millie home. She ignores Jimmy’s protest that a uniform can do it, bundles her into the car and drives the short distance to her flat so she can finally change out of her pyjamas.

The building is still swarming with cops and techs, and as they pass Laura’s wide open door Rhona sees Millie stiffen. Her keys jangle as she tries to unlock her own door, and Rhona silently reaches past her to steady her hand.

‘Why don’t you stay with me tonight?’ Rhona offers as Millie disappears into her bedroom and begins to rummage through drawers. She doesn’t spare even a glance for the rest of the flat, her eyes fixed on the doorway Millie walked through, catching every possible glimpse of her as she moves around the room.

‘I’m fine, Rhona. There’s really no need.’

‘I know you’re fine,’ Rhona says, even though she can still hear the tension in Millie’s voice, can still see it in her frame. ‘But you’ll never get any peace with that lot working across the hall from you.’ She tries to keep the pleading from her voice, tries not to show how shaken _she_ is by this, how much she wants to keep Millie close to her.

‘Alright,’ Millie sighs, just as Rhona is trying to come up with another reason. ‘As long as you’ve got gin in.’

‘Plenty,’ Rhona smiles, the fist around her heart loosening a touch and then clenching again at how little persuasion Millie needed.

They drive back to Bressay in silence. Rhona points Millie towards the guest room and then lets her be, takes Storm outside and throws a ball for her, watches her dash around burning off her seemingly unending supply of energy until she hears the soft rustle of Millie’s footsteps through the grass towards her.

‘Thank you,’ she murmurs, slipping her arm through Rhona’s. ‘I’d have been fine at home, though.’

‘I know you would, dear.’

‘It’s just – well, it’s nice to have someone who cares about me, I suppose.’

‘I do care,’ Rhona smiles. ‘Very much. And you’re always welcome here.’

Millie says nothing. But after a moment she leans into Rhona, and after another she rests her head on Rhona’s shoulder. She sighs deeply, and Rhona feels her head become heavy as some of the tension she’s been carrying all day finally leaves her.

*

Later that week, another woman is attacked. This one isn’t as lucky as Laura, is pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital in Lerwick. But the assailant described by the two witnesses fits the description given by both Millie and Laura.

‘Not that it gives us much to go on,’ Jimmy says dourly when Rhona calls everyone together for a briefing. ‘Average height, average build, wearing a dark hoodie with the hood up and a scarf wrapped around his face.’

‘I agree, it’s not much. But at the moment it’s all we’ve got,’ Rhona says. She’s got a sinking feeling about this one, has to try harder than usual to be positive.

‘Working on the assumption that it’s the same man, we’re now looking at murder and attempted murder. Tosh, any link between Laura Kennedy and Jessie Black?’

‘Not that I’ve found.’

‘Keep looking,’ jimmy tells her, and she nods.

The sinking feeling intensifies. Rhona can’t place it, but if working with Jimmy for so long has taught her anything it’s that she should trust her instincts.

‘Jimmy, have any other women reported assaults recently?’

‘Billy?’

‘I’ll see what I can find.’

‘There was Doctor Turner last month,’ Tosh says as Billy heads off to dig around in the files. ‘She’s a consultant at the hospital, she was attacked one night in the car park but one of her colleagues scared him off. We assumed it was a mugging gone wrong.’

‘And Nina, one of the uniforms over at Brae,’ Sandy adds. ‘Similar thing only Nina fought back and he legged it.’

By now Rhona’s stomach has plummeted. She catches Jimmy’s eye and sees that he’s feeling it too.

‘Assaults on women reported in the past three months,’ Billy says, handing a stack of files to Jimmy.

He leafs through them, hands moving faster as his frustration mounts. ‘Different ages, different places, different lines of work, different MOs,’ he says, throwing the last file down onto the desk. ‘Nothing linking them.’

Rhona picks up the top file, scans the details on the first sheet. Then she picks up the next one on the pile and does the same. By the time she opens the last one she has two piles, and a rock in the place where her stomach used to be. For a moment she’s almost certain she’s going to faint, has to put one hand flat on the desk and focus on the solid feel of the wood beneath her palm and breathe deeply until her head stops spinning and the room comes into focus and she can hear beyond the thudding rush of blood in her ears. She can feel Jimmy’s gaze on her, can feel Millie’s too, can feel the concern radiating from them both.

‘These we can ignore,’ she says, gesturing to one pile. Her voice isn’t as clear and steady as it normally is and she knows everyone in the room can hear it, can feel the change in the air. ‘The usual domestics, a mugging, but each with a clear description of an identifiable perpetrator. These, however,’ she adds, pointing towards the second pile. ‘These are all connected.’

‘Still nothing linking the victims,’ Jimmy points out. ‘And Doctor Turner didn’t even see her attacker so we’ve no description to go on there.’

Rhona meets Millie’s eye. Millie goes to her without hesitation, standing close enough that their arms brush. She skims each of the folders in the pile just like Rhona did, looks at the details on the board relating to the two attacks this week. When she’s finished she looks at Rhona and presses against her a little more. The worry on her face has grown and Rhona knows she’s seen it too, feels the horrible certainty that the pattern is real.

‘There are two things linking these six women,’ Rhona says slowly, as if putting off the words will delay it becoming true. ‘They’re all in positions of authority of some sort – teacher, consultant, cop–’

‘Yes, and?’ Jimmy interrupts, impatient in his frustration.

‘They’re each in, or have recently been in, a relationship with another woman,’ Millie says quietly.

There’s an elongated moment of pure silence. Jimmy looks from Millie to Rhona, holds Rhona’s gaze. And then time starts moving again.

‘I want everyone on this, right now,’ Jimmy says, with steel in his voice. ‘Drop everything else, this is our top priority. I want all of these cases gone over again. Look for any detail that might lead us to him, however small. We don’t stop until we know who he is and we catch him. And I want a list of anyone any of you can think of who might be a target,’ he adds. As he says it his gaze sweeps the room, coming to rest on Rhona. ‘Consider yourself at the top of it,’ he says, quiet but firm.

‘I’m not at the top of this list,’ Rhona says. ‘I’m flattered at the importance you assign to me,’ she continues, forestalling his argument, ‘but there’s someone with far greater authority than me you need to worry about protecting.’

Jimmy frowns at her.

‘Penny Muir,’ Rhona says.

‘Tosh, with me,’ he says instantly. ‘The rest of you, find him for me,’ he calls as he strides from the room, Tosh dashing to catch up.

‘Who’s Penny Muir?’ Millie asks as she follows Rhona to her office.

‘Chief exec of the local council,’ Rhona replies, closing the door behind them and sinking into the nearest chair, massaging her temples. She doesn’t notice that she’s trembling until her fingers are right in front of her eyes, for a moment feels overtaken by fear. She closes her eyes but the darkness only makes it worse, and she shivers.

In an instant Millie is beside her, one hand clasping hers, the other rubbing between her shoulder blades. Millie’s fingers are shaking too and Rhona grips them as tight as she can manage, looks around and meets Millie’s gaze. For the first time she regrets that Millie is here, feels another wave of fear at the thought that coming to Shetland has put her in danger, at the thought that she was only feet away from the man who’s doing this, who could come after either of them next.

‘It’s alright,’ Millie says softly, bending to hug Rhona. ‘We’ll be alright,’ she murmurs into her hair. ‘Jimmy’s hardly going to let any harm come to you, after all, is he?’

Rhona nods, leans into Millie and feels comforted by her warmth, her scent, her solidity. She takes a deep breath and catches hold of herself, pushes the fear down into something manageable.

‘And I won’t let any come to you,’ she vows, raising her head and meeting Millie’s gaze.

Millie’s eyes widen a little at the fierceness in her voice. Rhona goes to draw her hand back, worried she’s revealed too much, but Millie holds on tight and smiles, her face softening, her eyes never leaving Rhona’s.

‘That might be the loveliest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time,’ Millie says softly, her thumb stroking across the back of Rhona’s hand.

‘I mean it,’ Rhona says. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you were to come here only to–’ She breaks off with a shuddering sigh. ‘I just couldn’t bear it, Millie.’

‘The feeling’s mutual, I can assure you,’ Millie replies seriously. And then she smiles. ‘Top of Jimmy’s list, huh?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Rhona smiles in return.

Millie leans closer to her again, their eyes still locked, hands still clasped, Millie’s hair brushing her cheek. For a fleeting moment Rhona thinks Millie’s going to kiss her, feels her heart quiver with something other than fear. And then there’s a knock on the door and Millie draws away and straightens up, slips her hand free from Rhona’s and instead rests it on her shoulder. But she doesn’t go any further, not even when the door opens and Billy comes in.

*

By tacit agreement, Millie works in Rhona’s office rather than her own for the rest of the day. They barely talk, mostly get on with their own work in silence, but Rhona feels better with Millie there, where she can see her every time she looks up. Feels better knowing that Millie isn’t alone, that she isn’t alone.

They’re there, Rhona at her desk and Millie at the table, when Jimmy and Tosh return from the Town Hall.

‘Penny Muir?’ Rhona asks when he walks in.

‘Briefed. I’ve put uniforms on her and her wife.’

‘Good.’

Jimmy glances at Millie then comes closer, sitting in the visitor’s chair at Rhona’s desk. ‘I meant it,’ he says, a little quieter. ‘Penny Muir might be top of the list, but you’re a close second. Two uniforms on you at all times when you’re out of the office, and outside your house overnight.’

‘You don’t think that’s a wee bit excessive?’ Rhona asks.

Millie’s head snaps up, her mouth open to protest, but Jimmy gets there first.

‘No, I do not,’ he says firmly. ‘I’m protecting as many people as I can, and there’s no way that doesn’t include you, Rhona. Or you,’ he adds, turning to look at Millie. ‘I don’t want to hear any arguments, from either of you.’

‘Fine,’ Rhona agrees with a sigh.

‘What, that’s it? Not even a token protest?’

‘I’d quite like to feel safe when I go home tonight, Jimmy.’

She meets his eye, knows he can see the fear in hers and finds worry in his own, but tempered by steely determination.

‘Nothing’s gonna happen to you,’ he promises, leaning across the desk. ‘Ok?’

Rhona nods, fighting back a wave of emotion at his ferocity, his resolve, his care. At how lucky she is to benefit from it.

‘Go on, get back to work,’ she says eventually. ‘Whatever you need to find the bastard.’

Rhona is amazed she manages to get anything done for the rest of the day. But then that’s always how she’s dealt with things, isn’t it? Her father’s death, the dislocation of moving across the country, Phyllis. Every time something happens in her life she throws herself into her work, pushes her problems away and focuses on doing what she can to ease someone else’s.

But as five o’clock draws nearer she feels herself growing jittery at the thought of going home, of being alone bar Storm downstairs and a patrol car parked outside. A sleepless night beckons, she’s almost sure of it, one when every creak and rattle and gust will people her mind with intruders. Living alone doesn’t bother her, has never bothered her, but right now she can barely countenance the thought of being in an empty house.

Rhona forces herself to take a deep breath, sets down her pen and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her gaze falls on Millie, still sat at the table, her pen bouncing as she stares at the page in front of her, stares at it long enough for Rhona to be certain she’s not actually reading it.

‘Millie?’ she says softly.

Millie starts, her pen clattering across the polished wood, eyes wide as she looks at Rhona. ‘Sorry,’ she mutters. ‘Not paying attention.’

‘I can’t concentrate either,’ Rhona admits.

Millie’s breath comes out in a whoosh. ‘I don’t think I’m going to sleep a wink tonight.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Rhona says with a wry smile. She holds Millie’s gaze for a long moment, part of her wishing Millie was miles away in Edinburgh, part of her glad that she’s here. ‘Why don’t you come home with me?’ she asks, the words out of her mouth almost before she’s thought them. ‘At least then we could be wide awake together.’

‘I’ve certainly had worse offers,’ Millie says with a wink. ‘Plus it’ll save a bit on resources.’

‘What’ll save on resources?’ Jimmy asks from the doorway.

‘Millie staying with me,’ Rhona says, forcing herself to hold Jimmy’s eye as he studies her.

‘Ok,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone anyway. And no doubt Millie’s company is far superior to mine and Cassie’s.’

Rhona blushes as he says this, from the glint in his eye as much as his words, can only hope that Millie hasn’t noticed.

‘That’s settled, then,’ Millie says, relief colouring her voice.

‘Aye,’ Jimmy agrees, his gaze still on Rhona.

‘Did you need something?’ she asks pointedly when he lingers.

‘No,’ he replies. ‘Just wanted to look in. And remind you to let me know when you’re heading off so I can send someone with you.’

‘Is that a hint that you think I should be leaving soon?’ Rhona teases.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare,’ he says, with the slightest of smiles.

‘Yes, you would,’ Rhona disagrees. ‘Ten minutes?’ she asks, looking at Millie.

‘Fine by me,’ Millie nods, putting the lid on her pen and closing her notepad.

*

Millie is still sitting up in bed reading the book she picked from Rhona’s shelves well after midnight. She can’t sleep, can’t settle. After the night she spent here Rhona’s guest room isn’t entirely unfamiliar, the bed is comfortable, and the pitch black and complete quiet outside is bearable. The patrol car parked outside is a reassurance, as is the fact that she’s here rather than alone in her flat. Not that she’d ever be willing to admit that to anyone else.

Yet still she can’t sleep.

Millie hears the creak of floorboards from down the hall, the soft sound of a door opening and footsteps towards her room, pausing just outside before there’s a quiet tap.

‘Still awake,’ she says, her voice deafening even though it’s barely above a whisper. ‘Hope I’m not keeping you up?’ she asks as Rhona slips into the room.

Rhona shakes her head sheepishly, folds her arms and stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed until Millie pats the mattress.

‘I can’t sleep,’ Rhona admits once she’s sat beside Millie.

‘Me neither,’ Millie replies. ‘Obviously.’

The tension is radiating from Rhona. Millie remembers the office that morning, how she had felt Rhona soften beneath her touch. So she reaches for Rhona’s hand again and lightly grips her fingers. She could say that everything’s going to be alright, that they don’t need to worry, but they both know that everything already isn’t alright, that there are no guarantees. Instead she just holds Rhona’s hand, barely registers that her thumb is caressing Rhona’s skin.

‘I wasn’t expecting this when I came up to Shetland,’ Millie says eventually.

‘Being a potential target or being in bed with me?’ Rhona asks, the hint of a teasing spark in her eyes.

‘Both,’ Millie replies with a smile. ‘Although one is infinitely more preferable to the other.’

‘I should hope so too,’ Rhona says with mock affront and Millie laughs, looks down at the book in her lap because she doesn’t trust herself to keep the longing – the desire – she feels from her eyes.

‘Who’s Phyllis?’ she asks instead.

Rhona’s hand stiffens in hers, and Millie can hear surprise in her intake of breath.

‘The book,’ Millie explains, slipping her hand free so she can pick it up and open it to the title page. “Rhona, happy birthday,” she reads. “All my love, Phyllis.”

Beside her Rhona shifts, lets out a shuddering sigh, twists her fingers together so that Millie longs to clasp them again, but she doesn’t allow herself to. Not until Rhona has finished, anyway. And when she has, when she’s told Millie of how she fell in love, of what Phyllis did, of how so much of what she thought she knew about Phyllis turned out to be false, Millie feels no satisfaction at having her hunch proved right.

‘I wish I’d been here,’ Millie says quietly as they curl together in the lamplight.

‘You couldn’t have done anything.’

‘No,’ Millie agrees. ‘But I could have taken you out and got very drunk with you. Which always helps, at least in the short term.’

‘True,’ Rhona smiles.

Millie doesn’t remember falling asleep. But she wakes to the sound of her alarm, the sky no longer pitch black on the other side of the curtains, and Rhona still on the other side of the bed. Alarm silenced Millie watches her for a moment, watches her ribcage rise and fall and feels her heart ache with how nice it was to wake up next to someone. How nice it was to wake up next to Rhona.

That thought propels her up and into the shower, leaving Rhona to wake alone because Millie doesn’t know if she can face her sleep-filled eyes and sleep-filled voice without doing something she shouldn’t, something she isn’t certain Rhona wants too.

*

Days later, and while there have been no more attacks Jimmy’s also no closer to finding the perpetrator. Millie is in her office working on the Fatal Accident Inquiry from Scalloway Harbour, her first case here. Rhona is out visiting a family on the other side of Mainland, Calum and Rory in the car with her. This, with the door closed, is the closest Millie has been to alone since Rhona identified the link between the victims, the closest things have been to normal since then.

With two inches of solid wood between her and her colleagues – her protectors – Millie can almost pretend that it’s a normal day, that there’s nothing wrong. That the only thing she has to contend with is the growing certainty that however much she’s enjoying working with Rhona again, however much she likes being a part of this close-knit team who leap to protect their Fiscal like she’s family, this is no longer what she wants to spend her life doing. Instead her mind keeps drifting to the endless horizons and ever changing skies and seas, the canvasses propped against every wall in her flat, the colours and shapes she can’t get enough of and longs to commit to them.

Through the closed door Millie hears the flurry of activity surrounding someone arriving back, hears Jimmy’s raised voice and even though she can’t make out the words she can tell something has happened. She’s out of her chair and halfway around her desk before the muddle of footsteps are down the corridor, has her door open just in time to see Rhona disappear into her office, flanked by Calum and Rory, with Jimmy hot on their heels and Tosh not far behind, the first aid kit in her hands.

Millie’s heart begins to race.

‘I’m ok, Jimmy,’ Rhona is saying when Millie steps into the room.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Jimmy asks, rounding on Calum and Rory.

But Millie doesn’t hear the rest of his diatribe, nor their replies, nor Rhona’s attempt to calm him down. All she can process is that Rhona is bleeding, both her hands grazed.

Before Tosh can approach, Millie takes the first aid kit from her and pulls out the chair next to Rhona. Wordlessly she takes Rhona’s trembling hand and examines it, takes the other and examines it in turn: not too bad, not too deep, the skin not too torn. She can’t prevent the shuddering sigh of relief, keeps gentle hold of Rhona’s hands and tunes back in to the conversation around her just in time for it to be over, Jimmy storming from the room calling to Tosh, Rhona dismissing the two uniforms with a look.

‘Why don’t we get you cleaned up?’ Millie says softly.

Rhona nods, follows Millie to the ladies and lets her wash away the grit and dirt and blood, apologising quietly every time Rhona winces or hisses.

‘He almost had me, Millie,’ she whispers. ‘If it hadn’t been for Rory.’

‘He should never had been able to get that close to you in the first place,’ Millie says, seething with anger and fear, knowing Jimmy probably said more or less the same thing not five minutes ago.

‘I was hardly going to take two uniforms into this meeting,’ Rhona says with a small smile that Millie can’t return. ‘And something good’s come out of it, at least.’

Millie frowns and cocks her head, suspects this was something she missed in her worry.

‘He spoke to me, Millie,’ Rhona says. ‘We know where he’s from now, which admittedly isn’t much but it’s something to add to the picture. And we don't get too many South Africans here, so at least it might be useful.’

‘And we have so little that every clue could be crucial,’ Millie sighs, rubbing her thumb across Rhona’s knuckles.

*

‘Go home, Rhona,’ Jimmy says in the middle of the afternoon. ‘I’m putting people on the Bressay ferry so we’ll know who crosses later, and I’m putting extra uniforms on your house. He’s tried to get to you once today, he might try again.’

Rhona looks like she’s about to protest, but Millie gets there before she can.

‘Come on,’ she says softly. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I think you should stay at your flat tonight.’

‘What? No, Rhona, absolutely not.’

‘You heard Jimmy, he might come after me again. That puts you in more danger than you need to be in.’

‘He must have been watching you to know where you were this afternoon,’ Millie retorts. ‘So he probably knows I’ve been staying with you, and probably assumes we’re sleeping together, so I’ll be in danger wherever I am.’

Millie glares first at Rhona then at Jimmy, daring either of them to disagree, to forbid it, preparing herself for a fight. But there’s no need.

‘She’s no’ wrong,’ Jimmy says quietly, and Millie knows he’s been thinking about this all week.

‘Fine,’ Rhona sighs. ‘Oh, and Jimmy?’

‘Aye?’

‘It’d be good if you could catch him tonight, with us as bait.’

‘Believe me, I’ll try my best,’ Jimmy says grimly.

Rhona is silent on the drive to Bressay. Silent, and stiff. Millie can feel the tension and the fear radiating from her, wishes she could hold her, is desperate to reach across the gear stick and touch her but thinks Rhona might push her away, might be angry with her for her defiance.

When they get to the house Rhona goes straight upstairs without a word. Millie flops onto the sofa and pats Storm’s head, listens to the creak of the hot water pipes as the shower runs.

‘Well done,’ she mutters to herself, eyes flicking to the bottles of whiskey and gin on the side table.

She gets up again with a sigh, pours a generous splash of whiskey into a heavy tumbler and takes a sip before climbing the stairs too; she’d rather be in comfortable clothes for whatever the evening is going to hold. She kicks off her shoes at the foot of the bed and takes off her jacket, tossing it over the duvet. Her fingers are on the second button of her blouse when she hears something, stands perfectly still and listens carefully.

There it is again, a half stifled sob.

Millie is out of the room and across the landing before she has chance to think, taps on Rhona’s bedroom door and lets herself in without hesitation, regardless of the reception she might get.

Rhona is sitting on her bed, wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping, one hand over her mouth.

‘It’s alright, darling,’ Millie says, sitting beside her and touching her arm. ‘It’s alright, I’m here.’

Instantly Rhona turns into her, buries her face in Millie’s shoulder and clings to her, tears soaking her blouse. Millie holds her tight, murmurs soft reassurances, rocks her until her trembling body goes lax.

‘Sorry about your shirt,’ Rhona whispers.

‘It was going in the wash anyway,’ Millie smiles, and presses a kiss to Rhona’s hair.

Rhona raises her head and looks at Millie; she’s so close, close enough that Millie can see every delicate line around the corners of her eyes, the remains of a tear glittering on her eyelashes, the shine of tear tracks. And the emotions in Rhona’s eyes, so many Millie can’t name them all, can’t pick out which is strongest.

‘He won’t get you,’ Millie promises, tucking Rhona’s hair behind her ear, thumb lingering along her cheek as she wipes away the wetness. ‘I’ll punch him myself if I have to.’

Rhona laughs wetly at this. And then suddenly her lips are on Millie’s, her hand clutching Millie’s blouse and tugging her closer. Millie sinks her fingers deep into Rhona’s wet hair, kisses her and kisses her, licks the seam of Rhona’s lips and swallows her soft moan, tastes the remnants of Rhona’s tears and remembers that she could have lost her today and kisses her harder.

And then suddenly Rhona is pulling away from her. Millie frowns, opens her mouth to ask why and then hears Rhona’s phone ringing, recognises the ringtone assigned to Jimmy.

‘Jimmy?’ Rhona asks, her voice a little sharp, a little unsteady, fingers clenched as she listens to him. ‘You’re sure?’

Millie reaches for her hand but before their skin can touch there’s a knock on the front door. Rhona catches her eye and jerks her head towards the stairs; Millie nods, looks at her for a moment and then goes down to see who it is. Storm is already out of her basket and at the door, and Millie slips her fingers inside her collar as she reaches for the key.

‘Alan,’ she says with a tight smile, loosening her grip a little when she opens the door and sees the constable on the doorstep. ‘Everything alright?’

‘They caught him on the ferry over,’ Alan replies with a satisfied smile. ‘We’ll stay out here overnight just in case, but Jimmy disnae think he’s working with anyone else.’

‘Thank god,’ Millie sighs.

‘Sleep well.’

‘Thank you, Alan,’ Millie smiles. She watches until he’s back in his car then closes and locks the door, her hands shaking with relief as she strokes Storm before the dog pads back to her basket.

‘That was Jimmy,’ Rhona says from halfway down the stairs, still in just a towel, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

‘Alan said they caught him on the ferry?’

Rhona nods. Her eyes dart around the room, only briefly landing on Millie’s face before flitting away again. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Millie.’

‘Rhona, I–’

But Rhona has already disappeared back up the stairs, closing her bedroom door behind her with a sense of finality.

‘Goodnight,’ Millie says quietly. She slowly walks up the stairs, pausing on the landing before going into the guest room, leaving the door ajar.

She can’t sleep, tosses and turns for a while before giving up, switching on the lamp and sitting up to read. It isn’t because she’s fizzing with relief, although she is. It’s the fact that whenever she thinks about kissing Rhona her heart begins to race, the fact that every now and then she thinks she hears the creak of springs from across the landing and wonders if Rhona is still awake too, if Rhona is thinking about her.

Wonders why Rhona kissed her, only to withdraw as quickly as she could.

Wonders if Rhona regrets it – wonders if _she_ should regret it, but can’t.


	3. Chapter 3

‘John Garvey, forty-one, originally from Pretoria, more recently from Birmingham,’ Tosh says as they sit around the table in Rhona’s office the following morning. ‘Eight months ago his wife left him for another woman, and I think it’s safe to say he did not take it well.’

‘Evidently not,’ mutters Millie, with a glance at Rhona.

But Rhona’s eyes are fixed on the tabletop, fingers worrying at the edges of the grazes on her palm. Millie clasps her own hands tightly in her lap, fighting the urge to reach for Rhona’s to still them.

‘He followed them up to Shetland, intent on revenge,’ Jimmy continues.

‘But neither of them was attacked?’ Millie frowns.

‘No,’ Jimmy confirms. ‘See, when he got here he found a number of gay women in positions of authority and took it upon himself to–’ he breaks off.

‘To ‘put things right’, as he put it,’ Tosh says, her mouth twisting distastefully.

‘You were next, then Penny Muir, then his ex-wife’s new partner.’

‘If he can’t have her, no one can,’ Millie says.

‘Exactly,’ Jimmy agrees. ‘We’ve got CCTV linking him to the attack on Doctor Turner, and we’re expecting his DNA to match the skin found under Jessie Black’s fingernails.’

‘Good,’ Rhona says, speaking for the first time since they sat down. ‘Good. Keep me updated, Jimmy.’

‘Aye,’ Jimmy replies.

The room falls silent as he looks from Rhona to Millie and back again, then at Tosh. Millie sees her raise one shoulder in a slight shrug, looks towards the window quickly before her can meet her eye.

‘Alright,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, then.’

‘Thanks,’ Rhona says absently.

Millie remains in her seat as Jimmy and Tosh stand, waits until she hears the door down the corridor open and close behind them.

‘Rhona,’ she starts.

‘I need to get on, Millie,’ Rhona says, her gaze flicking to Millie’s face for the briefest moment before falling back to the polished wood.

‘Ok,’ Millie relents. ‘If you need anything, you know where I am.’

She leaves the room slowly but Rhona doesn’t reply, doesn’t move from her seat.

*          *          *

‘What’s wrong, Rhona?’

‘It’s been a hard week, Jimmy,’ Rhona replies tightly.

Even without looking she can knows Jimmy’s studying her, can feel his eyes on her, knows exactly what expression he’ll be wearing. It isn’t a lie: it’s mere days since her narrow escape, since they arrested John Garvey.

‘It has,’ he agrees. ‘And that’s all?’

Mere days since she kissed Millie.

Rhona nods, doesn’t trust herself to speak without giving herself away. She hears Millie’s voice from across the room and automatically looks at her, just the briefest glance but it’s enough.

‘Ah,’ Jimmy says. ‘Want to talk about it?’

Rhona sighs and shakes her head.

‘Why don’t you come over for dinner? I know Cassie would love to see you.’

‘I don’t know, Jimmy,’ Rhona says, her treacherous eyes seeking Millie again, her emerald blouse bright in the dingy office.

‘I’ll cook.’

‘Is that supposed to tempt me or put me off?’

‘Hey,’ Jimmy frowns. ‘Alright, I’ll get pizza. It’ll make Cassie’s week,’ he wheedles.

‘Fine,’ Rhona relents. He’ll only keep going on at her otherwise, better to get it over with in one go, away from work. ‘For Cassie, mind,’ she adds.

‘Aye, for Cassie,’ he smiles, and Rhona knows he isn’t fooled.

*

‘Come on then, spill,’ Cassie demands, while Jimmy throws the empty pizza boxes in the recycling and gets another bottle of wine from the kitchen.

‘What?’ Rhona asks, trying her best to look confused.

Cassie rolls her eyes; it might not be by blood, but she’s Jimmy’s daughter without a doubt. ‘Whatever it is that’s got you like this. It’s Millie, isn’t it? Did you kiss her?’

Rhona stares at her, eyes wide. ‘How did you–?’

‘I’ve got eyes, Rhona,’ Cassie replies, and Rhona pretends not to see Jimmy’s smirk as he tops up her glass.

‘Fine. Yes, we kissed.’

‘About bloody time,’ Cassie grins. ‘And?’

‘What do you mean, _and_?’

‘Was it not good? Did she not kiss you back?’

‘It was, and she did,’ Jimmy guesses from Rhona’s silent appraisal of her wine.

‘I don’t know why you need me here,’ Rhona says, a little harshly. ‘You two seem to know all the answers.’

‘But I don’t understand what the problem is,’ Cassie says, more gently, more carefully.

‘What do you think, Jimmy?’

‘She’s your colleague,’ Jimmy says, looking steadily at her. ‘And you don’t want to risk anyone thinking the lines are blurred, don’t want to give anyone reason to question you or your judgement.’ He doesn’t add _not after Phyllis_ , but he doesn’t need to.

‘She’s not just my colleague, I’m her direct superior. And it was a time of stress and high emotion.’

‘Did you think about kissing her before then?’ Cassie asks.

‘She did,’ Jimmy answers for her, a smile teasing one corner of his mouth.

‘And did she think about kissing you?’ Cassie asks.

‘I don’t–’

‘She did,’ Jimmy interrupts her.

‘Not just to do with the moment, then,’ Cassie smiles.

‘I’m still her boss.’

‘Only for, what, another month?’

‘Three weeks,’ Rhona corrects him. ‘And then she’s leaving, and I don’t know if I can do that again, Jimmy.’

They gaze at each other and Jimmy can see the weight of her pain, her worry, her turmoil. The depth of what she feels.

‘I get it,’ Cassie says, breaking them from their silence. ‘You don’t want to be hurt again.’

‘It’s more than that,’ Jimmy says quietly. ‘Isn’t it?’

Rhona nods. ‘My relationship with Phyllis damaged me, professionally.’

‘But you didn’t do anything wrong,’ Cassie protests.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Rhona says with a wry smile. ‘I’m still tarnished by what she did because we’re linked in people’s minds. I can’t risk even the slightest whiff of anything improper now. My reputation matters, Cassie. I have to be seen and believed to have integrity, else I can’t do my job.’

‘So what, you’re just gonna pretend nothing happened, pretend you don’t feel anything, until she leaves?’ Cassie asks, astonished.

‘What else can I do?’

‘Oh I don’t know, talk to her, maybe? She clearly likes you, Rhona.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Rhona says, swallowing the last of her wine. ‘I’m still her superior, however we might feel. Now, it’s getting late. I should be off home.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jimmy says. ‘You’ve had the best part of a bottle of wine. And I know you keep a spare shirt in your office,’ he adds, before she can protest that she’ll have nothing to wear tomorrow.

‘You can have my bed,’ Cassie offers.

Rhona looks between the two of them and knows there’s no way she’ll win this. Despite everything it makes her feel lucky, makes her feel like she belongs.

‘I won’t turn you out of your bed. The sofa’s fine.’

‘You sure?’

Rhona nods. ‘Something to sleep in would be nice, though.’

‘Come on,’ Cassie says, jumping up. ‘I’ll find you something.’

Rhona comes back down in an old t-shirt Jimmy recognises as his, and a pair of pyjama bottoms he recognises as Cassie’s, her face bare of make up, and sits back on the sofa with a sigh.

‘Cassie’s on the phone to a friend,’ she says quietly, suddenly feeling drained, the past week catching up with her all in one go.

‘Here,’ Jimmy says, passing her a mug of tea and sitting beside her.

He holds his arm out and after a moment Rhona leans against him, her head heavy on his shoulder.

‘Don’t tell me I should talk to her,’ she warns.

‘I just want you to be happy, Rhona,’ he murmurs. ‘And you’re the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time since Millie’s been here.’

‘Even if she wasn’t another Fiscal she’s going back to Edinburgh in a few weeks, and I don’t think I can do distance again, don’t want to have to make a decision about what matters more again. She – _Phyllis –_  taught me that. I so nearly made the wrong decision, gave up all this – all of you. What if I do that, and it all goes wrong again and I have nothing?’

‘I’m off to bed,’ Cassie says.

Rhona raises her head to see her halfway down the stairs.

‘You sure you’re ok on the sofa?’

‘I am,’ Rhona smiles. ‘Night sweetheart.’

‘Night love,’ Jimmy says.

They listen in silence as she goes back upstairs and closes her bedroom door.

‘How are you really, Rhona?’ Jimmy asks, just as Rhona’s wondering if he’s drifted to sleep.

‘I was bloody terrified for a few days,’ she says quietly, and his arm tightens around her shoulders. ‘But I knew you’d get him, and you did.’

‘And about Millie?’

‘I always liked her. We worked together for five years, closely for three of them. I thought she was beautiful the first time I saw her. But nothing ever happened between us, not even close – especially not with…’ She trails off, unwilling to reveal Millie’s past – to reveal Susan – to Jimmy. ‘I was so pleased when she came here, so relieved,’ she continues in the expectant silence he leaves, experienced interviewer that he is. ‘To have someone I knew I could rely on, not someone I’d never met, to be able to stop running just to keep on top of things.’

‘And then?’ he nudges gently.

‘Do you really need me to spell it out for you?’

‘No,’ he says, and she can hear that he’s smiling.

‘I don’t want to fall for her, Jimmy. I can’t.’

‘I think it might be a wee bit late for that, don’t you?’

‘I shouldn’t have kissed her,’ Rhona says, avoiding the question. ‘I’m an idiot.’

‘Aye,’ he agrees, earning himself a poke in his ribs.

Long minutes tick by; that interrogator’s silence again, dragging at her even though she knows what it is and uses it herself.

Eventually Rhona sighs. ‘I’ve got to talk to her, haven’t I?’

Jimmy says nothing, just rubs her shoulder and sips his tea. Rhona sighs again.

*          *          *

Millie rereads the letter one more time, saves it and attaches it to the waiting email, takes a deep breath and clicks send with shaking fingers. As soon as it’s gone she feels lighter, turns back to her work with renewed enthusiasm now she’s made her decision and committed to it.

When her phone rings not ten minutes later she answers brightly. ‘Millie Harcourt.’

‘Millie, just got your email.’

‘You agreed you wouldn’t try to persuade me, John,’ she warns.

‘And you agreed you’d wait until the three months was up,’ he retorts.

‘It almost is,’ Millie replies. ‘And I know, John. I know this is the right decision, and a few more weeks here isn’t going to change my mind.’

‘Alright,’ he sighs. ‘Alright.’

‘I’ll finish here, obviously, and come back and hand my remaining cases over properly,’ she promises. ‘Then take the rest of my annual leave.’

‘I wish I could say I was surprised. We’ll miss you, Millie. See you in a few weeks.’

Millie puts the phone down, barely registers Rhona’s office phone ringing a few moments later as she returns to her work. But before she can make any progress there’s a knock on her door and Rhona comes in.

‘I’ve just spoken to John McKenzie,’ she says, toying with the cuff of her blazer. ‘You’re resigning.’

‘I am.’

‘I hope it’s not because of me, because you haven’t enjoyed working together?’

‘No,’ Millie says quickly, barely stopping herself from jumping up and going to Rhona’s side, from taking her hand to stop her worried fidgeting. ‘I’ve enjoyed working with you so much, Rhona,’ she smiles. ‘I just haven’t enjoyed the work itself. It’s nothing to do with Shetland. I haven’t been enjoying it for a while now. John hoped being somewhere different might inspire me, but it hasn’t.’

Rhona nods and gazes at her, biting her lip like she’s trying to work out what to say. But just as she opens her mouth, Jimmy calls down the corridor for her.

‘Do you have to rush off this evening?’ Rhona asks, ignoring him.

‘No,’ Millie replies, all thoughts of the half done painting on her easel vanishing at the look in Rhona’s eyes.

‘I think we should talk,’ she says quietly, hesitantly. ‘Drinks?’

‘Why don’t we make it dinner?’ Millie suggests, trying to keep the longing from her voice. ‘We haven’t seen much of each other this week.’ _I’ve missed you._

‘Dinner,’ Rhona agrees, smiling. She holds Millie’s gaze until Jimmy calls for her again, and rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘See you later,’ Millie echoes, watching her walk down the corridor until she’s out of sight.

*

They walk to the restaurant – Rhona’s choice, following Millie’s suggestion of dinner.

‘It’s not far and parking’s terrible,’ Rhona says as they leave the station. ‘Doesn’t seem much point driving.’

‘Lead on, then,’ Millie replies.

Rhona glances at her, once, twice, in the pool of light cast by each street lamp. She wants to reach for Millie, wants to catch at her fingers and hold them tight. But Millie has said nothing about what happened that night, nothing about the way Rhona clutched at her, kissed her. Nothing about the way Rhona fled from her. And despite what she said earlier Rhona is still worried that Millie’s lying, that it’s the reason – _a_ reason, at least – behind her resignation.

 _Trust never used to be this hard_ , she thinks with a sigh.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Rhona asks, before Millie can ask if everything’s alright.

‘I’m – actually, why don’t I show you? I’ve got most of a bottle of rather delicious gin someone gave me, and we can pick up chips on the way.’

Which is how Rhona finds herself following Millie up the stairs to her flat, for the first time since the day Laura Kennedy was attacked. Since Millie was just feet from John Garvey. Since–

‘Rhona? Are you coming in?’

Rhona blinks, looks around to find Millie gazing at her, her eyes soft and concerned. ‘Sorry,’ she says, following Millie inside. ‘So, what did you want to show me?’

But as she looks around the kitchen-dining room, Rhona realises the question is redundant. Leaning against every part of every wall is a canvas, each one covered in swirls of colour from a palette Rhona recognises: unmistakably Shetland.

‘You painted these?’ she asks, crossing the room and crouching to look at one of the canvases more closely, her fingers a hairsbreadth from the layers of paint.

‘I did,’ Millie says, over the rustle of the carrier bag and paper from the chippy.

‘They’re incredible. I had no idea you painted.’

Rhona rocks back on her heels, accepts the hand Millie offers to help her up and does her best to suppress the shiver as their skin slides.

‘I started sketching when I was in India,’ Millie says as they sit down and begin to eat out of the paper. ‘Little things on the postcards I sent to begin with, then a sketchbook of pencil and watercolours. Then I tried oils and they were just so – so vibrant. I hadn’t picked up a brush in ages until that walk we went on, and suddenly I just felt inspired again. So I suppose my resignation is your fault, in a way,’ she teases, nudging Rhona’s knee with hers.

Rhona smiles but doesn’t look at her, keeps her gaze fixed firmly on her fish and chips.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get some work translating, what with all the tourists here. And I’m perfectly happy to waitress or work as a barista. Anything really, as long as I can paint.’

‘Here?’ Rhona asks, looking at her, not daring to believe her ears. ‘You want to stay here?’

‘It’s the light. The sea and the sky, the way they’re always changing. Capricious, like you said, different every time you look, a never-ending source of inspiration. And – well, there’s you, Rhona,’ she adds quietly.

‘Me?’ Rhona frowns, her heart suddenly racing.

‘Oh god, did I just say that?’ Millie groans, rubbing her eyes with her hand. ‘You’d think I’d’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut, after Susan.’

‘Millie, what do you mean?’ Rhona asks shakily.

‘Just forget I said anything,’ Millie pleads. ‘I thought maybe – but after this week obviously not. And now I’ve–’

‘No,’ Rhona interrupts.

‘No,’ Millie echoes, her shoulders sagging.

‘I mean no, you’re wrong. And no, I don’t want to forget,’ Rhona says quickly. ‘I bloody hate it when a Perez is right,’ she mutters.

‘You’ve been taking relationship advice from Jimmy?’ Millie teases. ‘Things must be bad.’

‘Worse: him and Cassie both.’ Rhona smiles briefly then settles her gaze on one of Millie’s paintings, a view she knows well: the beach she took Millie to that first time, the first time she thought Millie was going to kiss her, the storm clouds just breaking and sunlight dancing across the rippling sea. ‘They both think I should’ve talked to you and they were right, I was just too scared to.’

‘As far as I recall you were always the scary one – according to the other girls, anyway. Please, Rhona,’ Millie says, reaching a cautious hand out towards Rhona’s.

Rhona takes it instantly, grips Millie’s fingers tightly and meets her eye. ‘I was scared because after Phyllis I’m leery of both workplace relationships and long distance ones, and I thought that was all we could ever have.’

‘But now I’ve resigned,’ Millie breathes. ‘And I’m not going back to Edinburgh.’

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you,’ Rhona apologises. ‘Not then, not like that.’

‘How about now?’ Millie asks, raising her other hand to touch Rhona’s face. ‘Like this?’

Her lips are soft and warm, salty and sharp with vinegar from the chips resting, forgotten, in their laps.

*          *          *

‘I’m going to miss you all,’ Millie announces to the table in the corner of the pub where they’re gathered on the evening of her last day.

‘It’s not like you’ll never see them,’ Cassie points out. ‘None of them have friends, or a life. You’ll end up having drinks with them at least once a week.’

‘Hey, I have friends,’ Tosh protests.

‘Might even be able to give you some translation work,’ Jimmy says. ‘Don’t suppose you speak Norwegian?’

‘No, but I’m a quick study,’ Millie smiles.

‘What’s this?’ Rhona asks, walking over with the first round of drinks.

‘Jimmy was just offering me a job.’

‘Jimmy,’ Rhona warns.

‘Just freelance,’ he placates. ‘As and when we need a translator.’

‘It would be foolish not to make use of me,’ Millie adds, letting her fingers linger on Rhona’s as she takes her glass.

‘Davey’ll have to take those cases.’

‘Aye,’ Jimmy agrees, watching as Rhona sits down, her thigh pressed against Millie’s, a glance passing between them. As Rhona reaches to take Millie’s hand properly, lacing their fingers together where they rest on the table between their drinks. He hides his smile behind his beer, glances across to see Cassie grinning at them.

‘I like you, Millie,’ Jimmy says later, joining her at the bar under the pretence of helping her carry the next round.

‘And I like you,’ Millie replies, confused, leaning against the bar so she can study his face.

She catches sight of Rhona over his shoulder, sees her and Tosh laughing at something Cassie says and can’t help smiling, her attention stolen for a moment. But Jimmy keeps his eyes firmly fixed on her.

‘Tell me you don’t have any skeletons in your closet.’

‘There hasn’t been anything other than clothes in my closet for a long time,’ Millie says, tearing her gaze from Rhona to meet his eye.

‘I’m serious, Millie.’

‘So am I,’ she assures him.

‘She’s been let down by people,’ Jimmy says, after a long silence. ‘Professionally as well as personally. People she trusted.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you?’

‘I know about Phyllis,’ Millie says. ‘And about Drew McColl.’

‘I don’t want to see her get hurt again.’

‘There’s only one ghost in my past, and Rhona knows all about her,’ Millie says, thinking fleetingly of Susan.

‘She won’t be coming back to haunt you?’

‘No. And not because I had her killed.’

‘Good,’ Jimmy says, reaching past her for some of the drinks. ‘Because however much I like you–’

‘I know,’ Millie interrupts him. ‘She’s lucky to have you – all of you, but you most of all, Jimmy.’

‘I don’t know that she’d always agree with that,’ Jimmy smiles.

‘Perhaps not,’ Millie agrees, thinking of the times she’s seen Rhona go toe to toe with him, the times she’s seen – or heard – Rhona chastise him for making her job difficult. ‘But she is.’

‘Just – please don’t betray her trust?’

‘I won’t,’ Millie promises.

‘Won’t what?’ Cassie asks as they come into earshot.

Millie can feel Jimmy’s eyes boring into her, passes out the drinks she’s holding and then slides her hand along Rhona’s shoulder to rest at the nape of her neck. ‘Give your father a reason to hate me,’ she replies.

Rhona looks around at her, then glares at Jimmy.

Millie slips her fingertips through Rhona’s hair to reach bare skin, leans to murmur in her ear. ‘Don’t worry darling, no threats required.’

‘Might need to threaten him,’ Rhona mutters.

‘He’s just looking out for you,’ Millie says quietly.

‘Aye,’ Rhona agrees, softening slightly, fondness seeping into her voice. ‘As long as he hasn’t run a sneaky background check on you. Because that would be a blatant misuse of resources.’

‘I won’t deny I thought about it,’ Jimmy replies. ‘But I decided the in-house cleanup of the Fiscal service probably meant it wasn’t necessary.’

Unsure if he’s being serious Millie glances at Rhona as she sits beside her, but Rhona is smiling so Millie smiles too, offers her hand and smiles wider when Rhona clasps it in hers.

*

‘Billy, could I borrow you a moment?’ Millie asks.

It’s the day she leaves Shetland. Her case is packed and sitting in Rhona’s boot, and she’s been sitting in the break room waiting for Rhona to finish a meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled before she drives her to the airport.

‘Of course,’ Billy says, coming out from behind the desk and following her to the car park.

‘When we’ve gone,’ she says, opening the boot and pulling out something large and flat wrapped in a bin bag, ‘could you hang this in Rhona’s office? In place of that red monstrosity over the conference table?’

‘No problem,’ Billy smiles, taking the plastic wrapped canvas from her. ‘A surprise, I take it?’

Millie nods. ‘I’d like her to see it when she comes back from the airport, but not before.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll hide it away until you leave.’

‘Thanks, Billy.’

‘No, thank you,’ he says. ‘The building’s been a lot happier since you came. An’ I know Davey’s feeling much better about coming back since I told him how much you’d got cleared off his desk.’

‘Well I hope it continues to be a happy workplace,’ Millie smiles as Billy holds the door open and ushers her inside.

‘She’s much happier too,’ Billy adds quietly, carefully stowing the painting out of sight beneath the counter, just before Rhona’s office door opens.

‘All ready to go?’ Rhona asks once she’s shown her visitor out.

‘All ready,’ Millie smiles. ‘See you soon, everyone.’

‘Don’t get your head turned by the big city lights, will you?’ Tosh teases, hugging her.

‘Not likely,’ Millie replies, her eyes on Rhona.

*

‘Can I kiss you now?’ Millie asks, as they stand in Sumburgh airport. ‘I know I’m still technically a Fiscal but not for much longer, and I’m not going to be getting any new cases. Or working with you on anything.’

Rhona reaches for her hand and tugs her closer, close enough that she can slide her other hand around Millie’s waist inside her jacket. ‘You think I was going to let you leave for three weeks without a kiss?’

‘Well you have been very strict.’

‘Careful,’ Rhona corrects her, thumb caressing Millie’s hip through her dress. ‘But now we no longer work together,’ she adds softly, nudging her nose against Millie’s.

Millie takes this as permission, tangles her free hand in Rhona’s office-perfect hair and kisses her.

‘Go on,’ Rhona says eventually, taking a step back but keeping her hands on Millie. ‘Else you’ll miss your flight.’

‘I’ll see you soon,’ Millie says, squeezing Rhona’s hand.

‘Call me when you land,’ she orders, finally letting go.

‘I will, darling,’ Millie promises. She takes hold of her case, hesitates and then leans to brush her lips against Rhona’s one more time. ‘To keep us both going,’ she smiles.

And then she’s away towards security, and Rhona can only stand and watch until she’s out of sight.

*          *          *

Millie squints as she drives off the ferry into the glorious June morning. The sun doesn’t make her smile, however: the traffic in Aberdeen last night was so snarled she barely made it to check in on time, and while the crossing had been smooth and her berth as comfortable as could be expected – far more comfortable than a number of places she’s slept in before – she had tossed and turned for most of the night, not helped by her cabin mate’s intermittent snoring.

‘At least Lerwick doesn’t have much in the way of morning traffic,’ she mutters to herself, rolling her shoulders and wincing at the crunches as she pulls out of the terminal towards her flat, kept while she searches for somewhere with more space – and light – for painting.

The road works she encounters on the way do nothing to improve her mood, and the bright sun only serves to exacerbate the headache niggling at her temples. But then she finally parks and drags herself up the stairs, and finds a mug and a jar of instant coffee on the counter beside the kettle, milk and a Tupperware of pasta in the fridge, and finally she smiles.

‘Thank you,’ she says when Rhona answers her phone, sitting on the sofa with a steaming mug. ‘I feel more alive already.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Rhona replies. ‘Did you find the biscuits in the cupboard?’

‘No! Oh, you star,’ Millie grins, jumping up to find them. ‘Chocolate ones too,’ she says with delight, tearing into the packet.

‘Ferry rides aren’t fun, I thought you’d need a pick-me-up.’

‘The voice of experience,’ Millie says indistinctly around a mouthful of biscuit.

‘Indeed,’ Rhona agrees wryly. ‘I’ve got to go, but I’ve a whole two hours free over lunch if you want to grab a bite somewhere?’

‘I’d love to,’ Millie says, stifling a yawn. ‘But I can hardly keep my eyes open thanks to the snorer I was sharing a cabin with, and I think it’s going to take more than caffeine, sugar and a power nap to brighten me up. Dinner?’

‘It’s a date,’ Rhona replies, a smile evident in her voice. ‘I’ll come and pick you up when I’m done here.’

‘Perfect,’ Millie says through another yawn.

‘Go on, to bed with you,’ Rhona says fondly. ‘And I’ll see you later.’

*

After a long sleep, another coffee, and Rhona’s leftover pasta eaten straight from the box, Millie feels more human again, more like today is the bright new start it was supposed to be. She unloads her car, unpacks the essentials and leaves the rest in boxes and bags to deal with later. There’s no rush, after all; she isn’t planning on leaving any time soon.

She takes a shower, making a mental note to check the water pressure when she’s looking at new flats, slips on a dress that hasn’t suffered too badly from being in her suitcase, dries her hair in waves and adds a swipe each of mascara and lipstick.

It’s only quarter to five. Knowing Rhona, however much she wants to see Millie she might not get here until gone six if left to her own devices.

‘We’ll just have to make sure she isn’t left to her own devices, then,’ Millie says to her reflection, grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter on her way out.

Even on a Friday evening Lerwick traffic is quiet, and Millie walks into the station at five on the dot.

‘Millie!’ Tosh grins, spotting her through the window and jumping up to come out and hug her.

She’s followed by Billy and Sandy, Jimmy not far behind.

‘It’s good to see you,’ he says with a half smile, leaning in the doorway. ‘Good trip?’

‘Good enough. But if it had been terrible it would’ve been worth it. Is she in a meeting?’

Billy shakes his head. ‘Though she did say she wasn’t to be disturbed so she could get away on time.’

‘I don’t think that applies to you, somehow,’ Tosh smiles.

‘Aye, come on,’ Jimmy says. ‘I’ll let you in.’

Mille walks quietly down the corridor towards the Fiscal offices and peers through Rhona’s door, drinking in the sight of her as she works. They’ve Skyped but it isn’t the same, and seeing her in person again takes Millie’s breath away. She spares a glance around the room, relieved to see the conference table is clear of papers. And there opposite Rhona’s desk, right in her line of sight, is Millie’s painting, looking for all the world like it belongs there, and Millie’s heart swells.

‘Knock knock,’ she says eventually, once she’s drunk her fill.

Rhona’s head snaps up, a surprised smile spreading across her face. ‘I thought I was coming to pick you up?’ she frowns, pushing her chair back and standing up.

‘And I thought I’d surprise you,’ Millie smiles, crossing the room to meet her. ‘But I can wait if there are still things you need to do?’

‘Nothing that can’t wait over the weekend,’ Rhona replies. She reaches for Millie’s hand, raises the other to gently touch her face, thumb caressing her cheek. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she murmurs.

‘Missed you too,’ Millie says, slipping one arm around Rhona’s waist and drawing her closer. ‘Is it frowned upon to kiss the Area Fiscal in her office?’

‘Possibly,’ Rhona says. ‘But I don’t care.’

‘Rebel,’ Millie admonishes fondly. Before Rhona can retort she draws her closer still, moaning quietly as their bodies press together, and brushes a soft kiss to her lips, one that Rhona instantly deepens.

‘Dinner?’ Rhona suggests eventually, carefully wiping the smudges of crimson from around Millie’s lips with her thumb.

‘Dinner,’ Millie agrees, doing the same for her.

‘Come on, then,’ Rhona says, unable to resist one last, feather light kiss before letting Millie go so she can shut down her computer and gather her things.

‘Your jacket, ma’am,’ Millie smiles, holding Rhona’s blazer out for her to slip into.

‘Thank you,’ Rhona smiles, lacing their fingers again and leading Millie from the office.

‘You two off?’ Billy asks.

‘Aye,’ Rhona says, sticking her head around the door. ‘Davey’s on call over the weekend. I don’t want to hear a peep from any of you until Monday morning.’

‘Yes boss,’ Tosh grins, taking in their joined hands and Millie’s almost vanished lipstick.

‘Have fun,’ Jimmy calls after them.

‘Oh, we will,’ Millie calls back over her shoulder, tugging Rhona towards the front door.

*

‘Blackout blinds,’ Rhona says, hours later, tracing idle patterns across Millie’s cooling skin.

‘Hm?’ Millie asks, dragging herself out of the blissful haze she’s floating in.

‘Blackout blinds,’ Rhona repeats. ‘Unless you want to go mad in the simmer dim. It won’t get properly dark until towards the end of July now.’

‘Ok,’ Millie agrees, dragging her lips across Rhona’s collarbone. ‘Don’t suppose you fancy sharing any more of your Shetland expertise to help out an inexperienced Southerner?’

‘I’m sure I could manage that,’ Rhona smiles. She pushes Millie onto her back and rises to straddle her hips. ‘Just wait until winter,’ she says, leaning so her hair brushes Millie’s skin, making her shiver. ‘Short days and very long, cold nights.’

‘Any recommendations for how I’ll be able to keep myself warm _and_ occupied?’ Millie asks, smoothing her palms up Rhona’s sides, over the ridges of her ribs, thumbs just teasing the sides of her breasts.

‘One or two things I can think of,’ Rhona teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from Millie’s.

‘Roll on winter,’ Millie murmurs, craning her neck to meet them.


End file.
